In Full Bloom
In Full Bloom A ROBLOX SCP Foundation Tale by: DjPika ''' '''Ever since I was brought here, they’ve locked me in this room. They let me plant in the soil of this room, but they never let me outside. The lights in here feel nothing like sunlight, but it is enough to keep my small indoor garden alive. They give me water and food for me and the plants I created, but never once have they treated me to freedom. I haven’t seen my parents since I have arrived. They refused to even call me by my actual name, instead of calling me “Rose”, they call me “SCP-4812”. I wanna go back to Brazil. I wanna see my mommy and daddy. I wanna see my friends at school again. All they let me have are the plants I can produce in my garden. It’s been two months since those soldiers cornered me and talked me into coming here. I was afraid they would hurt me if I didn’t. I’m still afraid of them. I can sense something flammable behind those vents that surround my chamber. I feel if I do not obey their demands, they might expose my garden to those flames. I wish I could simply put my consciousness into a fireproof plant, if one existed. I sense them sitting behind that dark glass panel of my room, watching me. I felt like they were all bad people, but they must have had a good reason to lock me in this room. One seemingly indolent day, rather than those white lab coat people carrying clipboards or soldiers carrying weapons who occasionally come into that room behind that dark glass, they sent in a woman in a red suit, who opened the door from that room into mine. I could feel heat being emanating off of her attire. She wore a red top hat, also seeming to give off a fair amount of warmth, as if the material it was made of was forged in the fires of a volcano. She smelled like she had been working with chemicals in a lab her entire life, so I could tell she was one of those scientists here. Her smile was nearly contagious though; I sensed she was different from the people who locked me in here. She sat down beside my body, and I went from possessing the tree behind her back to my body so I could speak to her more audibly. “Hello, Rose. My name is Professor Young, but you can call me Angelika if you’d like,” she spoke softly, as if she had respect for my thoughts and feelings, unlike the bad people in the room she had entered from. The speaker in the roof of my room, between two lights used for growing my plants, boomed to life almost immediately. “Professor Young, please call her SCP-4812.” There had to be people in the room, watching and listening to us. She looked at the glass and held up her right index finger, as if to say “Shush, I know what I am doing.” She then turned her gaze back to me and produced a clipboard. She turned several pages and asked me to do a math equation. “Aren’t you a professor? Can’t you solve it easy?” I asked curiously. She giggled, “Why, of course. But I want to see you solve it.” Was she a teacher? I sat there, thinking. “Two times twelve? Isn’t that. . .” I counted on my fingers two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen, sixteen, eighteen, twenty, and when I realized I couldn’t count two more with my fingers, I plucked two leaves from the tree I sat under, watching them grow back instantaneously as I added two, four more to the count. “That would be twenty-four, right?” “Good job!” She said, as she unwrapped a piece of chocolate. I hesitated at first, but accepted it. She peered at me as if I were mad (though I was, since chocolate does not compare to freedom). “Don’t worry, I won’t litter the wrapper in your garden.” I giggled at the joke, since she somehow knew I hate trash in my garden. Yet again, the speaker gave a loud warning to her. “Professor Young, you did not ask or inform the O5 Council that you would give SCP-4812 chocola-” She interrupted, “They gave me full permission to award them with something of my choosing, as children deserve rewards for answering correctly.” There was a silence in the room, as if the people monitoring us were arguing over what to respond with. “Alright, continue. But we will intervene if you do something questionable in our eye-” “You’ll do nothing of the sort.” “... Please, continue.” I plopped the piece of chocolate in my mouth, savouring the flavour. I prefered candied cocoa beans, a treat that my family always made, as it was pure and all natural, but this was fine too. We went over English, history, and science after that. When we did science, I could tell her all about photosynthesis. I loved to discuss plants with her. At the end of the session, she asked what I’d like next time as a treat for answering her questions. “Flower seeds!” I answered. “You promise you’ll come back though?” She giggled once more, “I promise.” She placed a small packet in my hand, “We got this from the counter in your home when we came to get you. I told them to try and find something you’d enjoy, and I apologize we could not find more. I’ll bring some for you to enjoy next time. The paper is biodegradable, so feel free to bury it under some soil.” She got up, waved farewell, and left. I looked at the packet, turning out to be the aforementioned family specialty I adore. I cuddled up beside the oak tree in the corner of my cell, ate the treat, disposed of the packaging, and fell asleep. A few days later, she came in for another session. She greeted me with a smile and handed me a small seed. “Go on, plant it!” I had expected to hear the intercom turn on and condemn her actions, but no ominous voice came. Maybe there was a new observer, or none at all? I took the seed, buried it in a spot beside us, and watched it bloom into a beautiful iris. She gleamed, seeing me happy. “That’s an interesting ability you got there.” She commented. I expected her to follow up with a question about how I got this power (which, even I wonder), but rather, she followed up with a question about math. We went through a similar set of questions, since she was clearly here to educate me. She wasn’t a bad person. She might work with them, but she wasn’t bad herself. Every time I’d get one right, she’d give me a new flower seed to plant. My room went from being a plain room coloured green and brown with white walls to being filled with the colours of the flowers she gave me. Daisies, irises, roses, every kind of flower I knew and then some! At the end, she handed me another packet of candied cocoa beans. These were a bit sweeter than the ones my family makes; she must have made these herself, but they were just as good. She promised me she’d see me again and headed for the door, which opened as she approached it; someone was there, and for a brief second, I overheard a young man speaking. He left the door open for a few moments, but I didn’t dare sneak out. I moved my consciousness to the tree adjacent the door, being able to see it was a young man with short brown hair and wearing a labcoat. His nametag read “Co-Director Doctor Colms - L-5”, followed by a symbol that I kept seeing around the building the time they took me out of the cell to help with an issue in the facility’s greenhouse when a special flower refused to bloom, and a similar symbol with a microscope in the middle of the logo. He turned to Angelika, who now adorn a similar name tag with the same symbols reading “Director Angelika Young - L-5”. “Um, Young, does the microphone in here connect to the whole facility?” “I dunno, give it a shot. Why do you ask?” “There’s something that I just got informed of that all faculty and staff need to know, but most of all you since it might intervene with the anomaly education program trial you are working with this girl on.” “Eh?” The door shut closed before I could hear the rest of the last of the conversation. I had gotten so used to staring blankly at that window to the other room, I could make out the silhouette of her top hat. The man leaned over a microphone and I heard the intercom for this room come on (though I doubt this led to the rest of the building, as I never hear any of the other announcements they make unless from that room). I moved my consciousness back to my body and resumed snacking on the cocoa beans I was given. “Attention all personnel, Site Director Scruffy has declared this site as an SCP-GOC cooperation facility. This means any and all reality-bending anomalies, also known among the staff as ‘type green’s, are likely at high risk of being terminated and neutralized by GOC forces. The anomalies that may have been disclosed as such in the alliance agreement are . . .” he proceeded to read off a list of numbers, but I was too indulged in eating the candies Angelika had made me to focus on the ones he called out. For a moment, I thought I heard him call the number all the other scientists and soldiers addressed me as, but I wasn’t sure. Through the tinted glass, I could see Young’s face, now blanched as if in shock. He ended with “Please make preparations for this change. Stay vigilant. Secure. Contain. Protect.” And the room was silent once more. I watched for a moment as Young gesticulated towards him, trying to stop him from leaving the room, but he stepped past her and she frantically followed until they entered the hallway and the doors shut once more. A feeling of dread came over me. They wouldn’t harm an eight-year-old girl just because of some agreement. . . would they? I saw this as a foretelling that my relation with Angelika would be provisional, and that I may no longer be safe in this facility. I contemplated on this for a while until the sandman finally cast his spell on me and I fell into a deep slumber. The next morning, I saw Young rush into the control room and place a pot of some sort on the sill of the window, just above the panel with all the buttons and the microphone. She was about to retract from the room when a man of large build entered. I could not make out much details aside from he had a beard, shades, and some weird Russian hat you’d expect to see on a snowman or child during the winter. He carried with him a large gun, pointed towards the ground. He shouted some absurdities at my mentor, who backed into the corner and pointed him to the exit. His stolidity to her pleas was quite immense, as he hit her with the butt of his gun and pointed to my room. He angrily slammed a button on the panel, opening the door to my containment. I looked at him through the tree in the corner. He wore dark body armour all over, and had a blue logo with a pentagram on it that read “Global Occult Coalition - Agent Sandraker/Sequence Erase”. The man threw Angelika to the doorway and kicked her into my room, her body landing with a thud. She got up and dusted herself off, looking back at the diabolical man with innocence and fear in her eyes. “Tell the kid your last goodbyes and get the hell outta here, you dumb-” he called her something that never heard before, but I can guess it was some sorta bad word. I became afraid he would hurt either me or Angelika. “What’s happening, Angelika?” I asked as she rushed over to me. “I’m sorry,” she cried, holding my hands in hers. “His job is to get rid of you. I tried to stop him as much as I could, but there was nothing I could do to prevent this. I’m so, so sorry. . .” she pointed to the pot she had placed in the window of the control room; I could clearly make it out to be a white rose planted in it. She pulled away and started to the door, when the man jumped into the doorway and kicked her back to the ground in front of me. “Y’know what, Young? I don’t need that smart-” something I’d rather not say,”mouth of yours costing me promotions anymore! You don’t deserve life nor defense, you-” another curse. The man closed the door and resumed his position at the control panel. “Do your thing; move your mind into that flower.” She whispered to me, her tears soaking the dirt in front of her. I was too afraid to think, so I did as she told, and I was suddenly at the panel beside the man. Young jumped towards my body and hugged it tightly as Sandraker pressed a large button that had a flame symbol on it, and then pressed the green button in a case beside of it. Within seconds, the vents on the side of the containment opened, and a great conflagration swallowed whole all the trees, flowers, and grass of my room. And with it, both my body and Angelika. There was no way anything could survive the inferno, as when it finally stopped, nothing was left but ashes and the metal necklace she was wearing, in the shape of the symbol I always saw around the building. “That dumb plant girl, type green labelled SCP-4812, is dead. Mark her off the list,” Sandraker grunted into his radio on his shoulder as he stepped out of the room, shutting the door. I was left alone. No Angelika, no plants, even my own body had been disintegrated. I cried out for her (though rather than my body saying this, it was kinda a faint, disembodied voice coming from the rose my soul now inhabited), but no one came. Two hours later, according to the digital clock on one of the monitors of the control room, two men in long, flowing blue lab coats came in, picked up the amulet that she wore at the time of death, and left without saying a word. They didn’t even look around for it, but rather knew exactly where it was and got straight to work in taking it. No name tag, no identification, but they dug it out of the ashes and left. I still wonder to this day who they are and what they needed it for. Three days later, the soldiers in black and white watched over several men and women, all adorn in orange jumpsuits labelled “Class-D” and a really long number, wash the ashes and soot off the walls and off the floor of the room. They stirred up the ash on the floor with the dirt, and I could have sworn I heard the word “indoor garden” or something from one of the guards. In memory of me…? Or perhaps Angelika? I dunno, but I hope they’ll plant more colourful flowers in there once more. Almost a week after that, a familiar figure stepped into the room. I didn’t understand how she was alive, but I feel it had to deal with the necklace once again wrapped around her neck; Angelika was still alive! I called out her name, and she responded, “Nice to see you again, Rose.” She carried me out of that room, through the building, and to a series of doorways with nameplates, stopping at one that read “PROF. YOUNG”, pressed her thumb on a scanner beneath a keypad, and stepped into the office, setting me at her desk beside the monitor. This was my new home. “How’d you know I was in the plant?” “I didn’t until you called my name. You can still speak without a body? I don’t remember that being listed in your files.” “Will you still teach me?” “Certainly. I’ll still give you little treats like that candy, albeit in smaller amounts and less often since it takes longer for plants to break it down with their roots than humans can digest,” she continued before I could respond, “and while I cannot plant more flowers in this room due to rules, I’ll go outside the building and plant a new flower for every question you get right! I’ll take pictures when they bloom so you can see what they look like every spring!” And thus, I became her desktop plant. People often would ask if I was fake or something since I never wilted or died, and she’d dismiss it and say that she found the perfect mixture of water and chemicals to keep this flower alive. Though, even I knew she had to lie to keep her job. She wrote up a file using the number designated to me, added a “-N” to it, and posted it on the database, describing the conflict that occurred in an addendum at the bottom of the file. I never speak when others are in the office, but when it is just her, we have a chat, and she continues to teach me new things every day as she works. Even during emergencies, she picks up my pot and brings me outside. The only other person who knows about me is her… girlfriend, I think (I dunno how this works, and I try to often contemplate it, but love is love, I suppose; I can’t argue with that!), named Agent Majin Wyvern. She’s a very stolid woman, but very kind deep down inside (though I am somewhat afraid to talk when she is around, I’ll get over it eventually). Thank you, Professor Angelika Young, for giving me such a kind home in your office and for tending to me each and every day. I couldn’t be more grateful!